On a rather tedious road trip, I once read aloud to E Michael Crichton's short piece of non-fiction "Sharks" from the book Travels. Just to annoy E, each time I read the word "shark" I pronounced it with a thick Boston accent: "shahhhk."
I realize we do this kind of thing a lot, often when we're a little punchy from, say, a long road trip. Like this past weekend, while driving through Maine, E insisted that his favorite song on the ipod was Band of Horses' "No One's Gonna Love You," only because I think the song's stupid. He played it on repeat, sincerely closed his eyes while singing, did his dumb dance, hummed it in the parking lot of Market Basket. What a punk.
No comments:
Post a Comment